


Nobody Loves You Like Me

by sinningpumpkin



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - Punk, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Cheating, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friends to Lovers, Infidelity, Kind of happy ending, M/M, Multi, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-13 17:25:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11764773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinningpumpkin/pseuds/sinningpumpkin
Summary: Cain sinks his claws deep into his partner Abel, and his lover Deimos. They fight to get away from his toxic influence.





	1. golden

Their bodies writhed together, tapped into the music directly, molded as one as their hips grinded to the beat. Sweaty people surrounded them, all head to toe leather and spikes. His head was tipped back, hair spilling over Cain’s broad shoulder as he mouthed at his throat. Deimos’ eyes rolled, body loose and content from several shots of cinnamon whiskey, tongue still stinging with the taste as he soaked up Cain’s warmth. His bangs were falling in front of his face, keeping his eyes hidden as his hands splayed across Deimos’ pelvis, keeping them close. It was obnoxious, they were pretty much in the pit, a mass of fighting bodies directly in front of them, but Cain kept him still. So, they were pressed in by people, air feeling hot and thick while drums shook the walls and made him feel remarkably drunker than he was. 

But maybe that was Cain’s fault. His hands shifted over Deimos’ bare stomach, thumbs dipping under his loose top as he breathed heavily over his skin. He had been impassive tonight, perhaps even nice. Deimos soaked up the docile attention either way, head feeling heavy with the oily whiskey as Cain yanked him back against the wide plane of his chest. One of the only moments he felt alive. 

Entwined with Cain, breath heaving and chest aching as he was pulled into him. Sweat collecting on the arch of his back, raven hair sliding between his fingers with a tongue slick on his skin. Moments like this, or rare moments in bed, he remembered the boy he had known for so long. The one before graduation, before moving away, before high school, in those first few weeks of elementary school. Then growing together, blossoming into the golden years. Swapping hushed kisses in the hallways, watching the sunset together. When Cain would take his time with him. Rose tinted glasses lived on his face in those days, the days ending with hushed love in bed. Heat flooded his body as he remembered all the careful ways Cain would take him apart. 

But now the years that stretched before them were black. Smeared with dirt and oil. 

A round of feedback from the microphone sent Cain into a tizzy, snarling against Deimos’ shoulder before biting hard enough to draw blood. And still, his nerves reached for him. What should have been agonizing pain only dripped into sweet pleasure as the song started up anew, quick snaps of guitar and smashing drums, the lead singer shredding her voice apart. The crowd was now a complete mass, one single minded mob with a screaming voice and a steady push forward. 

It was only then that Cain’s kindness snapped, hand curling around Deimos’ wrist and dragging him through the crowd, leaving him to mumble apologies and be body slammed by men twice his size. The air stung his cheeks as Cain threw his body against his car, head bouncing off the door and making his vision spotty before he was shoved into the back seat. Cain loomed above him, standing in the open door with the street light above him, turning him into a faceless shadow as he climbed atop him. He ripped his clothes off, leaving his meager shirt and shorts in ribbons as he negligently stretched him open. Not enough lube or prep, no condom. Pain bloomed through his pelvis in place of pleasure, Cain pressed in too quick, hips snapping sharply and making his breaths turn ragged. Deimos reached for his shoulders, trying to find skin to soothe him, to keep him from breaking down like Cain always hated. His fingers only closed around glossy leather. 

Everywhere Cain touched him, black smeared across his skin. His rose colored glasses were smashed under his lover’s foot, left in his childhood bedroom. Cain was ravenous for his pain, nails sharp and mean on his skin, teeth nipping at his chest. He knew how sweet those lips could be, how Cain would take his time with pleasuring him, he knew how those hands could cradle him. It always made the hurt worse. 

Cain came inside him. He pulled out and left him in the back seat of his car as he drove them home. 

He never offered any apologies. But Deimos always forgave the boy that was slowly tarnishing their golden years.


	2. blush

He stuck to the back of the crowd, avoiding the rowdy drunks that made up the pit and the collecting pot smoke as strangers passed joints. It wasn’t exactly his type of place, a shitty run-down venue in the city a half hour away from his house. From what he gathered from Encke, the only people who played it were underground punk bands and teenagers aspiring to be the next big screamo hit. This band was no different. He didn’t recognize the name from the flyers, he didn’t like their type of garage rock, Keeler couldn’t make it out with him, and still, he was here. Something dressed in all black and looking like fate pulled him here, perking up against the back wall, crushing a water bottle in his fist as he watched dark shapes move on stage. 

The stage lights came up, too orange where they beat down on the three-person band. Abel couldn’t fucking believe it. His hand clapped over his mouth as he stared at the lead singer, clad in all black, guitar hanging off his slim frame as he wrapped both hands around the mic. A bright blue guitar pick was clenched in his fingers, matching the streak through his hair, as he leered at the crowd. He whipped up a few cheers before introducing the song. Abel couldn’t hear any of it, his mouth dropped open as he stared up at the man. Cain. His name was Cain. He had shown up at Abel’s show a few weeks earlier, flirting with him dirtily until Keeler had gotten fed up and pulled him away. 

Cain leaned away from the mic and counted his band members in. Music crashed down on him like a cold bucket of water, leaving him gasping for air. The bass shook the walls, pounding in his chest in a foreign but pleasant way as he started rocking on the balls of his feet. Guitar was violent and aggressive, nothing like the sweet tracks Keeler whipped up for his writing. His teeth rattled in his gums as the drums assaulted his ears, uncoordinated and one large mass of music. Cain leered, fingers flying deftly across the strings of his guitar as he bobbed his head, hair flying around him as he shredded through one last chord and cut it all away to silence. He leaned in close enough to cushion the mic with his lips, dark eyes shining under the warm stage lights. “Jesus Christ, that’s a pretty face.” It felt like Cain only had eyes for him, those dark cavernous irises keeping him still as he vaguely heard Keeler’s warning.

"He makes everyone feel like they’re the only one in the crowd."

His voice was low and melodic, gravelly and deep as it rocked through the venue, standing alone in the near silence after the discordant intro. The words were beautiful, carefully selected to caress against the bodies in front of him as he led you through the music. Through his fingers clawing across his guitar, the seemingly random banging of the drums, through the boosted bass that made copper spill across the back of Abel’s tongue. His voice never went raw, he never screamed. Dark lust and emotion curled around his tongue, staining the words and making Abel tremble, feeling too cold in the feverish room as he bit his tongue. The words were silky and sweet, curling around his limbs and pressing between his lips, sugar dissolving on his tongue and pleasure tickling between his thighs. He felt high as the first song ended, head tilted back and drunk on the ethereal words. Words that pressed into the crooks of his mind, made just for him. 

"He makes everyone feel like they’re the only one in the crowd."

He didn’t want to leave the smoke thick room. He watched all the other patrons stream from the doors hooting and hollering as they piled into cars and left the lot outside empty. He watched the stage lights dim, and felt something poignant and heavy in the air as he watched them move on the stage, packing up their kits until they disappeared and the security guard prompted him outside. The day had cooled to night, making the tacky sweat dry on his skin as he sat on the hood of his car, flicking through his phone and pretending he wasn’t waiting for someone. He felt like he was going through withdrawals of the beautiful voice as he leaned back against the windshield of his car, still shaking slightly and tapping out melodies on his thigh. 

“Wow, and here I thought my fanboy antics scared you off.” He looked away from the sky to Cain in front of him, eyes glinting with adrenaline and an easy smirk on his face. He struggled to find words as Cain sat beside him, close enough to press their thighs together as he rummaged for a cigarette. He watched the boy and his ritual of smoking, tapping the pack, pressing one between his lips before cupping and lighting it, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. Abel let him blow out his first long stream of smoke and send him a side long glance before he spoke. 

“Never. I love all my fans.” Cain snorted and pulled on his cigarette, letting smoke curl from his lips. They fell into silence for a few seconds as Abel’s fingers traced over the bare skin of his thigh, hand lying awkwardly over Cain’s as well. “I really fucking love your music.” He let his hand splay out across both of their thighs, watching his pale fingers across the dark fabric instead of looking at his reaction. “It’s… beautiful.” He settled on, biting the inside of his cheek and wondering where his usual eloquence escaped to. 

He looked up from his hand on Cain’s leg as he shoved the smashed pack of cigarettes toward him. Silence setting over them again as he plucked one from the crushed cardboard, setting it between his middle and forefinger as he glanced to Cain. He sighed before pulling out his lighter. Of course, he made Abel lean awkwardly over his lap to ignite the cigarette, shooting him a look before leaning away and puffing out smoke. “I don’t think anybody’s ever called our shit music beautiful.” He turned to look at Cain, startled to find only a few inches between their faces. 

He didn’t move away.

“It’s your voice.” His own had fallen to a whisper. He took another drag to steady himself, smoke licking around his lips as he spoke. “And your stage presence. Its fucking insane.” His jaw quirked slightly, moving to the side so he could avoid blowing smoke directly into Cain’s face. His hand shot out and caught Abel’s cheek, wrenching his face forward to suck the smoke from between his parted lips. He gasped slightly, their lips barely brushing before Cain let go of him. Cain managed to smirk and blow the smoke out at the same time, quirking an eyebrow and laying out a clear challenge. He bit the inside of his lip, feeling the same vertigo, he did inside the venue. 

He pressed the cigarette back between his lips, the ember at the end brightening as he listened to the crackling. This man was like a drug, an unbelievable high he wouldn’t give up so easily. He presented his lips, slightly parted with small wisps of smoke escaping them. Cain leaned over him, hand cupping the back of his head as he pressed them more firmly together, sucking the smoke from his lips before Abel grabbed his hair and dragged him back into a kiss. Cain’s hands were rough and possessive as he tugged on his hair and grabbed his waist, slotting their hips together as he whined softly into the kiss. Cain rolled them over, pinning him down fully as the smoke swapped between them, lips feeling bruised and hot from his insistent tongue and teeth. 

Cain pulled away, letting the last wisps of smoke fall from his lips as Abel looked up at him. Eyes gleaming, hair wild, and that trademark smirk on his lips. Abel felt terribly light headed, nearly shaking as Cain slid from the hood of his car, leaving him feeling cold and wanting as he stepped down himself. His cigarette was laying on the ground, burning down to the filter, while Cain pressed his back between his lips. He handed Cain his phone and let the boy key in his number before he moved to get into his car, hesitating as his hand wrapped around the door handle. 

Cain leered at him silently, smoke billowing from between his lips while his hand slid into his pocket. Abel forced himself inside the car, away from the poignant power and rush that the boy imbued him with. 

"He makes everyone feel like they’re the only one in the crowd."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that lyric is from jesus christ by brand new
> 
> i hope ur likin it


	3. silver

Cain loomed over him. Only a dark smudge in the dim room. He came a few minutes ago, now leaking out of Deimos’ abused body while he pulled on his clothes. Silence filled the space between them as the boy caught in the snarled sheets curled in on himself further. A dull pain radiated from between his legs, a deep intimate ache that made him feel weak. His hands were clenched in the sheets so hard that they were shaking. The pleasure that stubbornly wrapped around his untouched cock made bile rise in the back of his throat. Deimos could feel Cain standing above him, eyes staying pinned to the wall as he waited for the man to leave. 

Suddenly he was there beside Deimos, hands brushing away his sweaty hair and thumb pinching his chin. He tried to resist Cain turning his head, but the man was insistent, pulling him into a kiss. His hands relaxed in the sheets, entire body shaking violently as he sipped on the nectar dripping from Cain’s lips, a moment of sweetness that was no longer meant for him. He was dropped back to the bed, mouth feeling hot and bruised as Cain left the room. He heard the click of the front door and felt the tears starting to shudder through him. Maybe he’d go get drunk, or maybe he would return to his house without stopping at the bar. Return to Abel curled up in their bed. He heard him making an excuse about having a late night at the studio. He watched Abel welcome him with open arms and sweet kisses. Cain’s lips were back on his own as he watched him kiss the blond-haired boy. A love that he was no longer privy to. 

Panic pulled as his body, yanked him out of bed, knees throbbing where they smacked into the ground. Tears raked at his throat and chest as he dragged himself into the bathroom. He was unseeing as he ran the boiling bath, pain pounding through his pelvis and lower back as he lowered his cheek to the cool porcelain of the bath. Oil radiated out from his skin, staining the flawless surface as he sobbed. 

His skin screamed as he lowered himself into the steaming water, air thick around his face and making it even harder to breathe as the sobs continued. His face was screwed up, muscles aching as the tears ran free. His head pounded, heart aching between the streaks of pain that made up his ribs. He let himself cry, felt the tears hot and slick on his face, head barely suspended above the water. Even as his eyes burned, his throat swelling closed until it hurt to breath. Even as his pale hands curled around the edge of the tub to anchor himself, pain lancing up his arms from his bloody nails pressing into the porcelain. He let the pain rage through his body, let the tears ravage him. He let the nausea well in his throat as he remembered digging his fingers into the plaster, screaming and crying as they cracked and bled. Cain held him down and forced inside of him. He let the war rage inside of him as he dipped his head under the water, for the very same reason he never changed the locks on the house, or demanded the key back from Cain. He let the pain ravage him just as he allowed Cain to do, because for just a meager second, the pain blanketed the clawing emptiness. Cain forcing himself inside banished the gnawing static even if for just a second, even if it felt like his insides were ripped apart, even as the tears made him choke on scalding water, he at least felt human.

He broke the surface with a gasp. His hands relaxed on the side of the tub as water sloshed over onto the floor. He reached for the soap. He only saw Cain’s faraway eyes.

He scrubbed at his skin mercilessly, ripped fingernails raising red lines down his arms and legs, digging into his chest and stomach. He attempted to wash away every bruise, every drop of sweat and blood, every smear of come, every tear stain. He worked the knots out of his muscles with his teeth gritted, lip pinned between them and throbbing. He washed his matted hair and submerged himself in the cloudy water. His hands ripped at his hair, roots aching and skin still burning in the cooling water until he was choking for oxygen and forced to the surface. 

He dragged himself from the tub, body aching in a new way as he dried off with a threadbare, dirty towel. He turned to the mirror, hands gripping the sink as he stared into the reflection. Cold eyes stared back at him, his usually smooth, pale skin now pink and irritated. His movements were sluggish as he moved through brushing his teeth. Looking at the gaunt, harsh angles of his face, he felt sick, attempting to look into the eyes of the thing he had become. His eyelids fell shut, plunging him back into the memories of the golden years. When speech and laughter came easily to him, natural to be wrapped in Cain’s arms, to be held in the way the small blond now was. 

He spat out the frothy mess of toothpaste, smearing the rest on the back of his hand as he looked back into his own eyes. For a moment, he wondered what Cain saw when he raped him. He turned away from the mirror, remembering that Cain never bothered to see. 

His memories fell broken and tarnished at his feet. Unrecognizable.

Phobos and Selene sat around him, separated by a drum kit and a desk while he spread out his notes. They were quiet unobtrusive presences as he slowly organized verses and random lines, ideas for bass lines and beats, his phone on the edge of the desk lit up and seemingly loud in the small room. When it vibrated against the wood they all jumped, Phobos drawing slightly closer to him as he opened the conversation with Cain. He rarely ever used his phone, he was surprised to get a response from him so quickly. He was less surprised about the threats and insults. He didn’t bother with reading the whole thing, simply passing it onto Phobos who ducked behind the drums to show Selene. “I’m gonna fucking kill him, I swear to god I will pull a knife on him and gut him.” Phobos was seething with a rage Deimos rarely saw directed at anyone but him. 

“No, you won’t, shut up.” Selene had a unique way of cooling the blond down. The phone was tossed back into his lap, Phobos seething with anger beside him. 

“Tell him to come to our show.” Deimos stared at him. “I don’t need to look at your notes to know whether or not that’s a good song, I don’t need to read the lyrics to know what it’s about either.” He didn’t spare any humiliation. “So, tell him to show up on Friday, and let’s get you feeling good to open. Then you can bury this bitch in public, and I get to be front row for the public shaming of this cunt.” Selene made a soft warning noise before he could really get riled up again. 

He didn’t respond, but typed up a message anyway and abandoned his phone on the desk to sit beside his fair band member and start outlining the notes. It was only about half way through practice that he picked up his phone again, both boys pausing mid conversation to look at him. “He’ll be there.” For once, Phobos’ smile was genuine. 

The stage lights flared brightly as he stepped up to the mic, Phobos and Selene settling in behind him while he adjusted his hands on his bass. The venue was tiny, half the size of what Cain played, they were lucky to have it be a crowd of fifty. He couldn’t see Cain, but he wasn’t looking far past his feet. “I wrote this song for a man who doesn’t deserve it.” He didn’t bother with an introduction of himself or the band, and he could feel Phobos bristling behind him. Even those words fought his lips and tongue. 

He counted them in. Their music exploded from the stage, a living breathing thing catapulting over the crowd as his eyes fell shut. He was screaming into the mic without even knowing what he was saying, fingers plucking at the strings of his bass and aching to hold the bar chords. His ears pounded with the beat of the drums, head spinning, throat and voice aching as his lips pressed into the glossy mesh of the mic. 

It was all Cain. It was all Cain pushing him to write and pushing him to sing the only song he ever would for this small band. It was all Cain making his voice sounding choked and making the stage lights feel hotter than normal. It was always Cain.

He pulled his eyes open as they ran into the bridge, his fingers moving smoothly and softly across the strings of his bass while the vague taps of drums barely preserved the beat of the song. He saw him immediately. Abel was with him. It always was Cain. And Abel. Just for a moment, the shattered glasses he once cherished, dropped in front of his eyes. For just a moment, he felt alive. “Don’t call me lover, it’s just not good enough anymore.” His voice was a raw croak, crowd falling into hushed silence as the tears finally spilled over his cheeks. He pulled away from the mic as the bass picked up again, Selene crashing in on drums as the song turned into a cluster fuck of noise. 

The crowd was whipped into a frenzy, hands reaching toward him as sweat rolled down his face, screaming the chorus with his tear stained voice before the song ended, crowd roaring with him one last time before he stepped away from the mic.

He abandoned Cain that night. Dropped the glasses he had coveted in his back pocket, smashed the memories which he had romanticized. Cain had fucked a blank wall of static into him. That night he ripped it from between his ribs, leaving it on that stage, with his voice imprinted on that mic. 

The years stretched before him, cleaned of dirt and oil, glinting a sweet silver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this wasn't based on a specific song, but deimos' band is based on a band called remo drive which is fucken amazing, listen to their shit
> 
> i hope ya like it.


	4. blue

Abel was crying. He had been able to restrain it at the venue and on the way home, even while Cain shoved him into bed and undressed him. It was only once Cain had gotten his pants open that he started crying. Face turned into his shoulder as his body rocked with the force of the sobs, his tiny from appearing pathetic and small in the moonlight. Cain had collapsed into an arm chair by their bed when he had started up, squirming away from the larger boy and curling up next to the window. He watched silently as he lit his cigarette, smoking in the small badly ventilated room even though Able hated it. Maybe because Abel hated it. His motivation was never clear anymore, to himself or to the boy desperately trying to muffle his sobs into his hand. 

There was something different about the way that Abel cried. It was not like when Deimos cried below him. It was not like when the dark-haired boy had cried on stage looking down at them. The alien feeling only greeted him when Abel cried. It was not pain, or even anger. It was something he had only felt before graduation, before his world shattered into pieces unable to be glued back together. It was now unique to the boy in front of him. The boy who had dyed a strip of his hair to match Cain. The boy whose voice was not meant for singing but did it anyway. The boy who could not restrain his emotions, the boy who would not push him away. The boy who he hurt, he at least knew that, but he did not know why. Even now, watching him sob, alone and curled in their bed, he did not know why he fucked Deimos on the side. Or left Abel alone most nights in favor for the couch, or the bar. But Abel had not left him. He would never leave him. 

If he would have sat a second longer in that chair, taken one last pull on his cigarette, he would have recognized the deep ache in his chest as need. He would have realized he pushed and pushed and pushed, hurt the weak little boy over and over, to feel needed. He was the only one who could pull Abel out of the dark pit that lived in his mind. If he would have been able to watch that boy cry for a few more seconds, he would have realized that the only reason he kept Abel in his toxic clutches was to feel powerful. More intoxicated than shots of tequila could ever push him. More wanted in the moments of Abel’s panic and fear, than wanted in the moments they spared I love you’s. 

Cain did not realize that. Instead he set his cigarette in their ash tray and stood. His phone was already hooked up to the speakers, and all he had to do was hit play. It was Abel’s debut song, the song that had connected them, turned them onto this broken road together. One Cain refused to stop careening down. One that Cain pulled them down together. 

Soft strumming guitar and ambient noises flooded through their room, the sounds surrounding them in a soft haze as he walked to the bed and grabbed the shaking boy. He did not help, but he did not fight. He simply trembled in Cain’s arms as he was pulled to his feet. They stood in the middle of the room, the intro playing long and low, filling the cavernous space that grew between them. Cain cupped his bare waist, clasping their hands and staring down at him until Abel grabbed his shoulder. He could not manage to feel anything at the state of Abel’s flushed, tear stained face. He wished for a drink for the both of them. He began to lead them through a lazy waltz, holding him close, letting Abel take on his heat and lean on him as they danced to the soft music. 

Abel’s voice was soft and sweet through the speakers, his words carrying a melody but not really being sung. It was simply a poem that was synchronized to music and the sounds of a rushing river. Cain knew every word. His deep, dark voice pressed through the room, harmonizing with the older song. His head was held high, not bothering to look down to the sobbing boy, more focused on holding the harmony and keeping the tether between them strong. With each word spoken in their voices, it built their connection again. Each verse filling the chasm that threatened to take the smaller boy away from him. 

They had fallen still in the middle of the room, Abel clutching at the back of his shirt wailing into his chest as Cain fought to be heard over him. His eyes were dry as he stroked through his hair. The guitar and river dropped away, replaced by the wailing of wind as Abel’s soft shallow breathing took over the recording. He knew what to do. In that moment, he knew why. Although he would forget in the morning, although he would forget the next time he saw Abel crying, the next time he chose the couch over their bed. In that moment, he knew he needed this fragile creature he had caged. He knew he needed the thrill of keeping the weak boy alive. In that moment, he grabbed Abel’s chin, and forced their eyes together. Tears dripped down his jaw, nose running and eyes puffy as he watched Cain. “I think I’ll always be difficult to love.” Their voices became one. 

And in that moment, Abel forgot the show. Forgot why he sometimes hated the man who had promised to be his husband. Forgot about Deimos, or anything outside of Cain’s silky voice. He spent their last night of peace, curled around Cain’s fingers and tongue, happy to let his album play through the pleasure. 

That night only sped their velocity down that treacherous road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> abel's band is inspired by the band flatsound, ten out of ten, amazing lyrics. 
> 
> this song is based upon summer or spring by flatsound, but the lyric is of my own creation 
> 
> hope ur likin it


	5. gray

Deimos was an incredibly difficult person to find. He had only ever seen him in passing, or when he was with Cain. It was incredibly difficult to track down where he worked, and when his next shift would be. And suddenly being face to face with the stoic, cold character made it even worse. Standing in the middle of the run-down coffee shop with the dark-haired boy looking him over with disinterest, made his eloquence turn tail and run. Impossible to keep a hold on since he and Cain had moved in together. He stumbled and stuttered, babbling quietly and jolting when Deimos told him to speak up. “I’m taking a break.” He called over his shoulder before waving Abel outside. 

The fresh air only helped him slightly, everything stank of shit outside the café. Deimos watched him silently as he smoked, appearing to wait patiently while Abel got his words under control. “You and Cain.” He nodded, cheeks hollowing as he sucked on the cigarette. “He…” He couldn’t say it, not yet, his tongue rolled around the word, pressing against his cheeks until he sighed. “He’s been acting weird lately, suffocating. Trying too hard.” He didn’t need to look up at Deimos to know he didn’t care. “It’s like he’s trying to make up for something, besides cheating. Something worse.” He was now a rambler. There were holes bitten into his cheeks from when he had to force himself silent. It had only taken a few rounds of Cain taking low blows at his self-esteem to know when to shut up. He sighed raggedly. “He raped you, didn’t he?”

His face was cold. “He’s been emotionally raping me for as long as I can remember.” No hint of humor or snark in his voice. Abel struggled to breathe. “He only stopped listening to me saying no when you guys got together.” He was speaking effortlessly, as if he hadn’t been nearly mute as Cain had always described. Abel felt like he was going to pass out as Deimos shrugged, something unspoken extended between them before he stubbed his cigarette out on the wall and ducked into the café again.

He collapsed to his knees. Chest tight and aching, vision flickering as he blinked rapidly. He babbled blindly to himself, finger nails digging into his knees and scratching over his chest. They jolted into his hair, settling there, and starting to tear at the fine strands as panicked tears spilled onto his cheeks. Cain had been raping Deimos. He felt nauseous, like he had been in a car full of people for hours. Cain had been raping Deimos for as long as they had been together. Abel leaned over in the alley and retched, tears dripping to the ground as his constricted throat burned with bile. Despite what Cain thought, he was not stupid. Or weak. His hands fell to the asphalt, fingers digging into the ground as sobs ripped through him. Deimos was a filler. A tribute of sorts. A peacemaker between the warring halves of Cain’s mind. The one he had met at his show nearly a year and a half ago, and the one who now insulted and threatened him. 

He forced himself to his feet, leaning against the wall heavily while he wiped his tears. He blinked away the last of his fantasies. He fore himself out of his happy memories with Cain, he forced himself out of that alley, away from Deimos. In one fell swoop he washed away the film of watercolor he had painted across his world, hands fumbling for his phone as he called Keeler. He tried to ignore how gray his world now looked. 

He insisted that Keeler and Encke wait back at their house. Both were hesitant, almost fighting the frail boy before they relented and left him alone in the apartment. He sat on the floor of the nearly empty living room, not wanting to touch the couch that Cain had spent so many nights sleeping on, or in the chair where he had been coerced into blowing him. He sat on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest and head tilted back as he looked around the barren room. He took a deep breath. He wasn’t as scared as he should have been. If Cain would manipulate him, then he would. If he was going to scream and roar, Abel wouldn’t stop him. Cain would smack him if he wanted to. And then he would get the fuck out. 

Cain stumbled up the hallway, fumbling with the doorknob. Abel tightened his hand around his keys and took another breath. He was drunk. “What the fuck?” He yelled, probably seeing Abel’s old key sitting on the kitchen counter. He stood and met Cain’s fury with a quiet calm. “What in the fuck are you doing?” He wasn’t that drunk, only buzzed and monumentally angry. 

“I’m leaving you.” The words cut through the veil of anger around Cain, making him take a half step back as Abel continued to speak. “I’ve already taken all my things. My name isn’t on the lease, so no problem there. Just inform your landlord I’ve moved out.” He used the voice that was usually reserved for business. “Don’t contact me again on my cell phone, I will give you a landline you can call me on if I have taken something by mistake.” He hadn’t. But he darted into the kitchen to write the number anyway. 

He was leaning over the counter, reaching for a pen on the window sill when Cain came up behind him. He cupped Abel’s hips and pressed his chest along his back. For just a moment, Abel let him. Maybe he was being sentimental, or maybe it was fear that kept him from shoving the boy away immediately. But his world bloomed into color for just a moment. The dark gray of the counter and the sky blue of the sticky note. Dark red scrawl across paper. “Baby girl, no. You don’t need to leave.” His lips pressed against the back of his neck, making Abel’s eyes roll and his body melt against him. “Let me take care of you.” He dropped the pen on the counter, chest heaving as Cain turned him around. “I can make you feel so good.” 

His vision was sharp and clear when he looked up to Cain. His face was a dark smear, the swipe of a thumb through a pile of charcoal, lips carved into a blood red smile. He stared at his lips, Cain’s thumbs rubbing against his bare skin. Darkness smeared across him, oil bleeding from the pads of his fingers. 

He shoved him away. As soon as the fingers left his skin, the world was bland. The black washed away, leaving him clean. “No.” He did not yell, he did not scream or cry. Instead he handed Cain the sticky note and left the kitchen, hand closing around the doorknob. 

“Wait!”

He rounded on him without thinking, keys clenched in a shaking fist as rage boiled over. “For what? What am I waiting for Cain?” His eyes were sharp, searching the smaller boys face. “Am I waiting for a proposal? Maybe once we’re engaged you’ll be able to smack me around, yeah? It’d be harder for me to get away.” A sharp bark of laughter ripped at his throat. “You want me to wait until our wedding night when the only thing everyone sees is how I limp and flinch away from you each time you raise your hand?” Words were tumbling from his lips, spliced with his old eloquence and new penchant for rambling. “You want me to wait until I demand we adopt and I watch you smack around my kids?” Cain’s face was blank. “You want me to wait until raping your lover isn’t enough and you have to start on me too? Is that how you plan on taking care of me?” It was silly to expect a reaction. He stood at the door, staring at the boy for a few more seconds before he fled the apartment. 

There was no hesitance as he climbed into his car. The drive to his new house was long and a dark gray as night fell. He tightened his hands around the steering wheel and kept the music a notch below deafening. It quieted the clamoring in his chest. He tried to convince himself that a newly grayed world would be better than stained, dirty skin. He tried to convince himself he would paint his world anew. 

It didn’t matter if he was lying or not. He had seen the scars Cain had left upon Deimos. And he had no intention of ending up like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it :)
> 
> abel was probs listening to crash test rating by remo drive, very good emo song 10/10


	6. red

He woke to hands closing around his ankles and yanking him from bed. His head bounced off the footboard, pain pounding through his skull as a hand grabbed his shoulder, smashing him face down into the carpet. One minute he was lying in bed, and the next he was screaming, face forced into his dirty carpet as his boxers were ripped from his body. He writhed, legs kicking and arms lashing out as he screamed. A dark chuckle cut through the panic, making him freeze. A hand shoved his thighs open while he had the chance, even as he tried to squirm away and close his legs. With the man already shoved between them he was pinned, a hand tangled through his hair and smashing his head back into the ground. “Cain?” It wasn’t a comfort. His head was pounding, barely letting him think as panic and pain intermingled, washing through him at increasing velocity. He could barely breathe, his heavy body draped over Deimos, pinning him completely and making his chest ache. “Get off me.” His voice was already raw, barely audible where his mouth was forced against the floor. “What the fuck are you doing?” He arched his back, trying to throw him off, only to have his knee pressed into the back of his thigh, limiting his movements even further. 

It had been nearly a month since they had spoken. He broke in. Nails dug into his scalp as he tried to get his arms under him. “Don’t make me cut you open Deimos.” The words couldn’t hide the noise of his zipper opening. Ice water surged through his veins. It was a bluff. It had to be. He only fought harder, enraged screams quieted as he ran out of breath. His ribs were constricted, everything hot and damp around his face. His free leg kicked out, smacking against the foot board. The grip in his hair changed, turning his head to the side as something glinted in the lowlight of the room. The switchblade was placed beside his face. “Don’t make me fucking kill you.” Even with his mouth and nose free he couldn’t breathe, staring at the wicked blade as the hand left the back of his head. 

“You’re a crazy psycho cunt.” He had barely finished the sentence before his fist was slamming into the side of his head. His teeth clacked, pinching his tongue, and filling his mouth with blood. His knuckle connecting directly with the soft flesh of his temple, sending a cup of boiling hot water deep into his skull. He floated through the darkness, eyes fluttering as he leaned away from. Cain was still speaking to him, muffled through something as he clawed his way back to consciousness. He snapped back to reality, each tiny movement making his head pound and his jaw ache. 

“You should have just minded your own fucking business.” His words were crisp and clear, sending a chill through the boy below him as he fought to keep a grip on reality. “I wouldn’t be here if you had just kept your mouth shut.” His lips were almost directly beside his face, chin bumping against his jaw and sending sharp nails of pain through him. His breath was clean of alcohol. 

“Fucking stop.” He gritted out, voice sounding weak and quiet again. Always weak and quiet in the face of Cain. He tried to push his shoulders up, but his chest was firm at his back, keeping him pinned as he started to mouth at his hair line. 

“No.” He was spitting and cursing in a second, trying to throw Cain off of him, even though every little movement sent another white-hot bolt of pain through his skull. Cain grabbed his hair again lifting his head from the ground and making his neck ache before smashing his face back against the carpet. A jet of blood rocketed down his throat, agony blooming through his eyes and mouth as Cain kept his head forced against the floor. He screamed as best as he could, blood clogging his throat as he felt the pull of unconsciousness on his body again. 

Just as he went under, succumbing to the smoky black surrounding him, Cain jammed himself inside. Forcing Deimos’ unwilling body to stretch around his penis. An indescribable, guttural pain ripping through him, something so claiming and vile he felt himself become nauseous. Like his organs were turning themselves inside out, hooking a finger into thin plastic and pulling until it ripped. One moment his body was intact and then it was not. He swore he could hear the tearing of his flesh, the first gush of blood coating Cain’s penis and making him slide in even deeper. Even if the blade wasn’t sitting beside his head, wicked metal glinting, he wouldn’t have been able to move. A weight had settled over his whole body, pinning him stronger than Cain ever could. The weight of the progress he had made in the last month, the changes in his body and in his mind. Everything he did to rid himself of Cain was shattered, formed into long shards, and now slowly shredding him from the inside out. 

Each scream he let loose made more pain rattle the inside of his skull, head pounding with an inescapable agony as his broken nose was shoved into the ground with each thrust. Falling in and out of the dark smoke wafting around him, senses fading and returning randomly, pelvis seeming to both be coldly numb and white hot as Cain raped him. “Just had to tell Abel about our personal business.” His words cut through the blind mass of agony and disgust coating his insides, making him gasp for air as his finger nails ripped at the carpet. 

“Please, get off me.” Weak cracking words, barely above a whisper as blood dripped from his lips. Cain laughed. He untangled his hand from his hair, grabbing onto his shoulders and gaining even more leverage. It cut through what little numbness he had, thrusts jostling his entire body as fresh pain lanced through his insides. His neck was unable to support him any longer, body weak and faint as he begged. “Cain, please.” 

“No.” That single word again. So immediate and indisputable. A complete defamation of Deimos’ body. He fought against the urge to vomit, a new burning taking residence somewhere in his throat. Blood flowed freely from deep inside of him, making humiliating squelching noises that only worsened his shame. “You’ve forgotten your place Deimos.” His finger nails cut into his skin, a sharp sting as his back was forced into an arch. “You won’t forget any longer.” 

He blacked out. 

His memories were hazy and dark. He didn’t really remember what happened to him. Only that it hurt. Hurt to move, even to breathe. Each beat of his heart seemed to make another bolt of agony pulse through him. He was alone again. House empty. Left broken and bloodied on the floor. He tried to find out what hurt the most, catalogue injuries. But nothing was left untouched by the destructive force of Cain. As he slowly peeled his eyes open, he pieced the shattered memories he did have together. It was still dark. Maybe a full day since he had last been aware. Each breath felt like a monumental movement, each thought tainted with Cain’s voice and the steady pressure of his broken life constricting his chest. 

Time escaped him for a while after that. Moments in the hospital, Phobos and Selene sitting at his bedside, one an immovable calm force and the other a knot of rage. Moments back in his apartment, changing the locks in an effort to keep him out. Moments curled up in bed, awaking with a panicked scream as his aching body protested, swept into comforting arms with soft words before he could even blink. All moments, over the next few days until he took a shower. Scrubbing at his abused skin, even though all his wounds had been cleaned thoroughly at the hospital. His world only connected back together once he really examined his body in the mirror. 

His face seemed gaunt and ghostly again, as if he had lost the twenty pounds he had fought so hard for. His eyes hollow and lifeless, set deep into his skull and stark against the dark purple bleeding around his eyes. He turned his head to the side to look at his profile. His nose was now slightly crooked, a small bump in the bridge. The towel barely stayed on his slim hips. There were random scratches across his chest, curled around his biceps. He turned and looked over his shoulder. They marked up and down his back, the skin raised and red, some even scabbing over in their intensity. Bruises decorated him. Mottling his smooth skin with red and purple. A livid hickey stood out on his neck, making him sway on the balls of his feet and grab at the sink to keep himself upright. 

He had cut him as well. His hands shook as he uncurled them from the counter, breathing coming heavy and slow as he grabbed the towel and slowly pulled it from his hips. Long thin cuts ran over the tops of his thighs, already part way healed but still tender. More bruises and random scratches marked down his legs. A spot on the inside of this thigh throbbed. Slowly, he spread his legs, eyes jumping around the room before he finally looked down. The cuts were short but deep, skin puckered and irritated around the letters. Short and blocky. Even now, it made him woozy, vision turning and pain itching at his skin more acutely as he stared at it.

He lost his balance, falling to the floor with a crash he could barely even feel as he stared at the single word forever carved into his thigh. There was a banging at the door, two panicked voices starting to call his name. He could barely hear them. All he could do, was stare at the scabbed over scrawl of Cain’s name across his body. 

He had a month of bliss. A paradise outside of Cain’s grip, before he was reminded of where he belonged. Before he was yanked back into the cage of Cain’s possession. Before he was again stuck tight to the boy. Before the years in front of him were ruined, yet again. Even if Cain never touched him again, he would always belong to the rose-colored boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i hope you liked it
> 
> have a good day


	7. platinum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the lyrics are from flannel by the cardboard swords

The coffee cup was warm in his palms. Soft steam rose around his face, carrying the scent of green tea as he leaned back into the microphone. “This has been a wonderful set. Thank you for coming out and seeing us, or letting us hold you hostage for a half hour.” He flashed a smile at the soft laughter, feeling Keeler share his happiness as he took another sip of tea. “I speak for both of us when I say that these places are always the most fun to play.” It was a gamble if the chair you sat in was going to break or not. The floorboards that creaked were warped and stained. The place reeked of dark roast coffee. “We just have one last song to play today.” Sunlight streamed through the green windows, making the café look ethereal as he shifted on his seat again. “It’s a bit emotional. Buckle up.” Another smattering of laughs broke out.

Keeler’s fingers shifted on his guitar, head tilted toward him as he started plucking at the strings. He swayed to the melody, body feeling loose and warm as he relaxed into the song. Usually he could hold onto the tears through the beginning. In a year, he had plenty of time to write songs like this one, to become desensitized to what Cain had done to him. Walking through the beginning of their relationship wasn’t as bad anymore, letting the melodic guitar carry him through the memories, ones that brought a smile to his lips.

But the boy he saw through describing walks in the forest, sunlight dappling his hair looked remarkably more like Deimos. The boy he tasted on his tongue when he described their kisses, did not smoke, barely even drank. He chewed peppermint gum and laughed at him each time he started to play with his hair. The sweet, soft memories he wove through the bitter song, no longer looked like Cain. Instead, it was the first night he spent in Deimos’ bed. The movie date they went on a few weeks ago. The hours he and the boy spent painting color back into both their worlds, once separate, slowly becoming one.

But then, the guitar became rough. His eyes dropped closed as one hand curled around the mic, the other cradling the large mug in his lap. Deimos’ face morphed, first screaming and enraged, before finally fracturing into Cain. Broken and hurting as he lashed out and attacked, left Abel lonely and aching some nights, overwhelmed and choked on others. They entangled together in his mind, frames of a movie shoved forward by the rough beats of guitar. His voice was hoarse and choked, tears clogging his vocal chords as it came faster. Cain holding Deimos down and raping him, breaking him, marking him. “You keep doing the things you do,” His head bowed as the guitar dropped away, leaving him floating through his own memories and fears. “Shifting blame and twisting truth,” Screaming, crying, begging. “And making absolutely, positively sure that everybody in the room is certain that the victim,” His voice cracked, drawing a shaking breath as he forced out his last words. “Just had to be you.” His eyes shot open.

As if it was meant to be, he was there. The song was over. A moment of hushed silence seemed to stretch out for hours as he stared at the wraith who haunted his dreams. He looked worse than Abel ever could have imagined. The lines of his face were creased, as if he had aged twenty years. Hair long and unkempt, almost matting into dreadlocks around his face. Those same hollow eyes bored into him for as long as the silence stretched out, tracing the harsh lines of his emaciated body, before the applause sounded. His eyes snapped back to the actual audience, thanking them with a choked voice as he scrubbed away a few unwanted tears. His hands were trembling pathetically as he set his mug down on his stool and turned to help Keeler pack up.

Cain no longer seeped color. He absorbed it. The light in the coffee shop seeming to dim as he drew closer to him. That same darkness exuded from him. Abel’s eyes fluttered for a moment, seeing that charcoal and oil smear across his pale skin. “Abel?”

His voice sounded worse. Rougher and almost painful as it left his throat. Keeler was a quiet rage beside him, turning with a fluid grace reserved for deadly wildcats. “What in the fuck makes you think he wants to talk to you?” He couldn’t turn to look at him, not yet. He restrained his panic, ignored what his brain was desperately screaming about Deimos and stepped up beside Keeler.

“And who dictated that you would be speaking for him?”

“Stop it.” His voice was a harsh bark, making the owner’s eyes snap to him. He stopped Keeler before he could launch into the long cutting monologue boiling under his skin. “Can you finish packing up while I deal with this?” He was careful not to look Cain in the eyes as he pressed a hand into his chest. Keeler was still seething, jaw clenching a few times before he jerked out a nod. Abel stared at the space he had occupied for another moment, before stepping down form the stage. “Let’s go outside.” They stepped into the alley beside the coffee shop, making sure to stand on opposite sides.

Cain fiddled while Abel lit a cigarette, letting it settle his nerves as he stared. Silence stretched out between them as he smoked. “You better say your fucking piece before I’m done with this cig.” He crossed an arm over his chest. “I have absolutely nothing to say to you, so jerk yourself off and be done with it.” He was learning Deimos’ dirty mouth. But he meant every word of it.

He responded without venom. Collapsing on himself as he spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Abel choked on his inhale. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry.” Abel gaped, jaw snapping open and closed a few times before Cain found his words. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. And Deimos. I can’t get in touch with him to tell him.” Only then did it finally strike Abel that Cain was psycho enough to track his band down and show up to one of their shows. “I’m sorry for mistreating you, for cheating on you.” Even so, a few simple words sent his entire world crashing to the ground. Every conception he had made about the man slouching in front of him, shredded like threads coming loose. “What I did to him is unspeakable, but you, too, deserve an apology.” He took a ragged pull on his cigarette, trying to stem the thundering of his heart.

“Alright.” He took his last drag before stubbing out the cigarette. “Thanks. I guess.” He was only able to take a half step away from him before Cain shot forward.

And there it was. The roaring fury exploded from him as he closed his fingers around Abel’s wrist and yanked him back into the alley. “What the fuck do you mean?” He barely even looked at Cain, wrenching away from his grip. “You don’t get to just do that!” His snarl was thick and venomous, so achingly familiar as Abel rounded on him. “Don’t you want to know why? You can’t just fucking end this, like it’s nothing!”

“Shut your fucking mouth Cain.” He jammed a finger into his sternum. “I have no responsibility to you because you apologized. I owe you absolutely nothing.” He slammed his hands against Cain’s bony shoulders, watching him trip over his feet. “You are fucking nothing to me. You don’t just apologize away months of abuse.” His chest was heaving, jaw clenching in time with his fists. “It doesn’t change what you did to me or Deimos. You don’t just get to come back around when you feel like it, and apologize your way into a lay.” Cain tried to take a step toward him again, but he slammed his hands against his chest, finally sending him to the ground. “Stay the fuck away from Deimos and I, or I will have no problem with restraining orders and pressing charges.”

Cain was staring up at him, eyes wide and glassy. It was a look he had recognized on himself hundreds of times. One that he promised himself he would never see again. “I don’t need to ask why you did it.” He shook his head with an off-beat laugh. “You just want to watch people bend until they break, and then get off and putting them back together.” He took a stuttering step backward, shaking his head one last time before leaving the man crumpled on the ground.

He nearly ran into Keeler carrying all their gear. As he explained what happened to his band mate, he excluded how adrenaline was rushing through his veins. How he had to hold himself back from smashing his foot down on Cain’s face, or attempt to break one of his ribs. As he traced a finger over the gnarled scar on Deimos’ thigh that night, he whispered sweet nothings into his neck and felt the boy clutch at him. His colors were still bright. The violent urges beaten back. He turned Deimos into him and kissed him softly.

Finally, they had both extricated themselves from Cain’s cage. Instead finding themselves tangled in each other’s arms, worlds woven together. Safe, and comfortable at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading 
> 
> come visit me on [tumblr!](https://sinningpumpkin.tumblr.com/)


	8. golden: Reprise

The first cold and gray morning of fall pressed tendrils of ice up under his sweater. It was the first day in several months that he insisted upon a pair of socks, before he braved the cold tile of the kitchen. The first morning he allowed a hot cup of coffee instead of icing it. Deimos swept out the door to grab some random item for their traditional Sunday breakfast, leaving Abel curled up at the kitchen table, sipping on coffee, cheek warmed from his hasty kiss. He played with the hem of the warn out sweater as he scrolled through his phone. He was fairly sure that the dark sweater was his, but it reeked so badly of Deimos’ cologne that he couldn’t be sure. His empty coffee cup clattered to the table as he pulled on the collar of the sweater, pulling it up to his nose as he smiled. Boyfriend. Warm sandalwood and jasmine. He adjusted the fabric so it pooled between his bare thighs, sleeves hanging around his hands.

Boyfriend. How strange. Months of random meet ups and drunken make outs turning into this. Sharing an apartment, watching it slowly overflow with shared sentiments, a penchant for weekend breakfasts. All born out of a terrible chaotic force that nearly ripped both of them in two. Deimos worse than he.

The key scraped inside the lock as Deimos came back inside, a gust of cool air filling the open room as Abel’s thoughts evaporated. In one hand he held a bag bursting with miscellaneous food, in the other was the newspaper. He blindly paused the video, face curling to match Deimos’ dismay. Neither of them spoke, Abel’s eyes tracing Deimos as he moved into the kitchen to set the bag down. Paper shuffled.

He returned with a single center fold, doubling it over before dropping it on top of Abel’s phone. Neither of them spoke. Even as Abel’s eyes widened, mouth dropping open as his finger raised to trace the words. It was rough against his skin, the smell of his boyfriend only intensifying as he leaned closer. He swallowed roughly. “It seems like every time we get away from him, it’s just a ploy to tangle us further in his web.” The eulogy was short. It didn’t even contain his real name. Skimmed over his cause of death. It still opened a pit in the bottom of his stomach. Like he had a responsibility to grieve. Like he had to fight against the relief he felt. This was it, Cain’s final effort. One that wouldn’t work.

A hand smoothed down his back, a soft hum rattling in Deimos’ chest as Abel leaned into his shoulder. Emotions warred under his skin, head shaking softly. “It’s okay.” Deimos’ voice was rough, emotion and exhaustion pulling it down low. “He’s gone now.” Abel’s hand pressed up his shirt, fisting the in the thin fabric as he dragged in a breath. “Really gone.”

He nodded and sucked in a breath, leaning into the embrace as Deimos wrapped a hand around his bicep. They stayed like that for a few more moments before he grabbed the paper and stood. “You wanna come watch me make breakfast?” Abel’s fingers clicked at the table for a few seconds, eyes pointed out toward the window. After vowing to himself to book another appointment with a therapist he nodded. Deimos pulled him to his feet and helped him hop onto the cool stone counter. He smacked a wet kiss onto his cheek before shuffling their shared playlist and throwing his phone onto the opposite counter.

The morning was warmer after that. He watched his boyfriend crack eggs into a bowl, yolks glowing gold before he beat them together. Their voices wrapped around bad eighties hits as he sipped a fresh cup of coffee. Basil and parsley smeared emerald across the cutting board as Deimos chopped them. The popping of the eggs in the pan filled the kitchen as he smiled. Deimos’ eyes were luminescent each time he looked over his shoulder, hoots of laughter leaving both of them as he barely managed to flip the omelet. The tomatoes bled red as they were sliced, served next to his omelet full of cheese and ham.

Deimos’ hands were warm on his thighs as he took the first bite, lips pulling into another smile as he ate, their foreheads tipping together for a moment. He turned away to make himself something, Abel still humming along to random songs as he worked his way through his food.

A world full of color. Brimming with music. Speckled with laughter. They had successfully rebuilt their lives, together. Bearing the scars they would never be rid of.

Cain’s broken path was cut short, but Abel and Deimos paved theirs together, stretching toward the horizon, one they would walk down for many years. Colored in golden egg yolks and emerald herbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, i hope this was a vaguely satisfying/happyish ending. originally i planned to write about Cain's death from his point of view, but decided last minute it would glorify the situation too much. i wanted to end this fic on the note of an abuser getting what he deserved, with his victims united but struggling together. i have never ever been abused like the intensity of this fic, but i hope that it didn't glorify the situation and instead gave insight to what it might be like. therapy is important, finding someone with shared experiences to heal with is equally as such. but i hoped you enjoyed it, thank you for reading to the end. 
> 
> if you want more context for Cain's death, i based it upon the song blonde hair, black lungs by sorority noise. 
> 
> come visit me on [tumblr!](https://sinningpumpkin.tumblr.com/) i post a lot of random content there, and if you're interested in commissioning me, theres information there as well!
> 
> if ur interested in seeing what im up to with writing and art, and want to know when im updating things, check out my [instagram!](https://www.instagram.com/sinningpumpkin/?hl=en)


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